The Girl on the Steps
by nikki-of-stormhold
Summary: Severus Snape is home for the summer and stumbles across a young witch on his street. Unknowingly, he rescues her and reveals to her her true identity, finding that her story is not so very different to her own...  Snape/OC pairing, AU .
1. The Trap

Snape slammed the door hard behind him as he stormed into Albus Dumbledore's office, his face even stormier than his actions and angry stride. Dumbledore sat by the fire reading a newspaper, which entirely concealed his face and upper body. He did not move nor wince at the sound of the door slamming, nor at the quick, purposeful footsteps across the floor of his study. He continued to read calmly.

"This does not happen Albus." Snape's voice was low and quiet, but the anger and emotion in it was more than noticeable. He stopped a few feet away and stood still, and Dumbledore could just see around the edge of his paper that the professor's fists were clenched tightly by his sides. Letting the top half of the newspaper flop down to reveal his face, he looked up at him carefully. He had expected this kind of reaction from Snape, and he was not unprepared.

"Severus, calm yourself."

The other man kept quiet for a moment, but visibly flinched. Dumbledore knew that it was not probable that Snape would do as he'd said, but he knew the man well enough to know that however tense or angry he was, he would never show it properly in front of another. He had not, however, seen him this angry before. Every muscle in his body seemed to be tensed, and he stood awkwardly as if he did not want to keep still. If Dumbledore did not know him so well, he would have expected Snape to lash out, if not at a person at least at the wall. He seemed to be extremely harassed. Looking him in the eyes, he saw that he was right. Snape's eyes were usually cold and unemotional, but this evening Dumbledore saw turmoil there. Deep, desperate turmoil.

"Headmaster," he almost whispered. Dumbledore sighed and stood up slowly, looking away from him. It was difficult to look him in the eyes when he looked like that.

"It is decided Severus," he said quietly, walking to the window. He looked out at the parts of the castle visible below. "She must go."

"She can't," Snape said, his voice a little louder than before. He moved forward as he spoke and Dumbledore looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Don't you see? If they find out they will kill her! She will be dead within seconds, and that's if she's lucky!" The turmoil in his eyes had extended to his voice.

"Severus, there is always that risk with any of us that bravely choose to play the part in Voldemort's army for the sake of our own." He turned to face him, his hands clasped behind his back.

"You yourself have faced it, and continue to."

Snape shook his head.

"Yes, but I am older, more experienced. I know what I am doing!"

"And you doubt that she does?" Dumbledore fired back at him, catching him off guard. "Do not underestimate her, Severus."

Snape's eyes flickered and he turned away sharply, looking out of the window himself.

"Headmaster, I beg you. Do not send her into a trap." He spoke very softly, but with obvious desperation to be heard. "I know what they are like- I know their cruelty has no limits and their desire to kill and cause pain has no end. I know their ways- she does not. She is young and innocent, and she does not deserve this fate."

Dumbledore laughed softly.

"Severus, you speak as if her fate is already determined. Do you not think it possible that she might come back alive with useful information?"

Snape swung around violently and glared at the old man for a few moments.

"Useful... information?" he almost spat, his voice barely a whisper. "Is that all she is good for? Is she your next Potter? Are you home-growing her the way you have him, to die at the correct time and for the correct reason after she has been 'useful' to you?"

Dumbledore did not flinch nor speak, but merely looked at Snape calmly. Then, sitting down slowly in his chair once more, he looked up at Snape, who was almost shaking with rage.

"You are fond of the girl, Severus," he said softly. Snape's jaw tightened and he shifted his weight onto the other leg. He said nothing, but to Dumbledore he did not need to. He had observed Snape's behaviour over the past few months, and the man's feelings he was sure of. He did not need them to be openly displayed to know that they existed.

"She's a student," Dumbledore continued, sounding a little absentminded.

"Don't you think I know that?" Snape hissed. "I am reminded of the fact every single day when she enters my classroom."

Dumbledore blinked.

"Just..." Snape sighed and leaned against the windowsill, his back to Dumbledore and his head bowed.

"Headmaster, promise me you will keep her safe."

Dumbledore looked at the fire in the fireplace, watching the flames flicker and dance within the grate.

"Severus..."

"Please," Snape said through clenched teeth, not moving. "Please headmaster. Give me your word."

A few moments passed in silence, and Dumbledore cleared his throat, sitting forward in his chair.

"Severus, I can promise you no such thing. I can however, offer you an alternative."

Snape stood up and turned around slowly.

"What?" he said slowly, his eyes narrowed.

Dumbledore looked at him carefully. Severus Snape had always been a very cold man, but his loyalty was unquestionable. He trusted the man with his life and with that of every student under his protection, and though he could not give him the reassurance he asked for, he knew he could trust him with what he was about to offer- if not for his loyalty, for his obvious love for her and desperation to keep the girl safe.

"The Order think it, as you do, unwise to send her into the lion's den, as it were, alone. They want to see her accompanied by a stronger, more experienced member, and one which the Dark Lord especially trusts."

Snape stared at him for a moment, before understanding dawned.

"I will go," he said immediately. "He trusts me completely, as does Madame Lestrange. I will go with her, and that way I can see that she remains unharmed."

Dumbledore looked over his half moon spectacles at the man before him, his expression soft. He was what you might call the most 'unconventional' headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen, and where he saw love he encouraged it. It might not be what most would approve of, but he knew that Snape would not overstep any boundaries out of turn or time.

"Severus," he said slowly, resenting not for the first time the difficult part of his job and his role in the war.

"You realize that if her cover is blown, you would reveal where your loyalty truly lies by trying to save her?"

Snape sighed and closed his eyes, leaning against the wall.

"I'm sure I don't need to remind you of the importance of your work, to the hundreds and thousands depending on us to win this war. Their lives are also in your hands. You are valuable- to lose you would be dangerous to us all."

Snape turned to him and glared. Storming across the room he slammed his fist down on the desk.

" Damn it, Dumbledore," he hissed. "I may be valuable to you all, but she is valuable to me. I will not watch her die!"

Dumbledore looked up at him calmly, not phased at all by his outburst.

"Then see that she doesn't, professor," he said softly. "See that she plays her part as well as you have- let her learn from the best."

Snape's eyes flashed angrily, and he turned his back on Dumbledore.

"I cannot change your mind then, Headmaster."

"No," Dumbledore said. "It is done."

Snape sighed.

"Then be assured that I will do all that I can to see that she makes it through this alive and unscathed."

He turned halfway back to Dumbledore.

"And I trust I have your word that you will do all that is in your power to achieve the very same."

Dumbledore nodded.

"Of course, Severus."


	2. Nearest and Dearest

**Chapter Two**

"Argh!"

Snape's head shot up as he heard a student cry out somewhere in his class. Recognizing the yelp, he strode down from his platform and made his way briskly to the window in the back of the class. She always sat there, always in the same place, every class. It annoyed him most of the time- for two reasons. Firstly that it was about as far as possible away from his desk and when she had an accident, which was quite often, it took him an unnecessarily long time to get to her. Secondly- it made it difficult to catch a glimpse of her- he couldn't see her as well as he'd like. It was darker at the back of the room, and with her almost black hair she blended in. Her skin was pale, so she was not as invisible as she could be, and her eyes were most illuminating. They were a light grey in colour, and wherever she was, whatever light she was in, they seemed to light up the space around her. She always looked wide awake, even if she wasn't, because her eyes were so bright.

"What is it this time, Miss Sylvari?" He snapped, striding towards her. She looked up at him, her dark hair swishing as she did so. Snape fought the urge to look away- sometimes her eyes caught him off guard. Most of her movements were sharp and defined, and yet there was an unmistakable elegance about her which no-one he had ever met could match.

Looking down at her desk, he noticed her cauldron on its side, the contents spilling onto the floor. She was cradling her left hand inside her robes.

"What happened?" he snapped, standing over her. She looked up at him slowly, and blinked.

"What usually happens. I hate this class." Her voice was soft and smooth, and she spoke quietly so as not to attract attention to herself. Snape looked at her arm inside her robes, and she followed his gaze to it.

"No," she said. "I'll be fine."

"Miss Sylvari," he said, his irritation obvious in his voice. Why did she always have to do that? If it weren't for her quietness, he'd have other students laughing at him because of her ability to predict what he was going to say, and her smoothness in talking to him.

"Do not speak for me. If I ask you to go to the hospital wing, then you will go."

She looked at him in silence. Did she know what effect that had on him? Was that why she was doing it?

"Let me see," he said slowly, his voice filled with authority. She blinked, her expression unchanging, and slowly withdrew her arm from inside her robes. Holding it halfway out, she continued to stare at him. He looked away, turning his attention to her arm.

"Another cauldron burn," he half sneered. "How many is that this term?"

She looked at her cauldron, her expression filled with annoyance and boredom.

"Four. But you won't let me drop this class, so I suppose I will have to keep burning myself until you change your mind. Sir."

Snape remained silent and stooped a little to get a better look at her arm. He would not let her drop Potions- of course he wouldn't. Dumbledore had left the decision to him when Anna Sylvari had gone to him to request it, and he had immediately denied her the option. It was selfish- if she wasn't in his class then he would barely see her, and he didn't want that. But in his defence, there were things she needed to know that she could get from this class- basic things. When he did not speak she narrowed her eyes and drew her arm back, but he took hold of her wrist to stop her.

"This is worse than the last time," Snape said, holding her arm where it was on the desk. He shouldn't have been touching her in front of the class, that he knew, but she was being deliberately difficult and her arm genuinely was in a bad way. She had obviously exposed a large area of her forearm to the edge of her hot cauldron, and had badly scalded it. It must have been painful, and yet she showed no sign of having felt it. Extending a finger from his free hand, it touched the edge of the burn and she yelped again, trying to pull her arm back. This time he let her, letting go of it and standing up straight.

"To the hospital wing," he said flatly. "NOW."

She scowled at him and stood up slowly, standing inches away from him.

"Yes sir."

Holding her arm inside her robes with her free hand, she walked slowly past him to the classroom door, and as she passed him Snape thought he saw the beginning of tears in her eyes. So it did hurt then.

"Sylvari," he called after her. She stopped and turned. "Back here afterwards. Immediately. Detention until dinner. For extreme carelessness."

"Anna- Ellarian Sylvari," Voldemort said softly, holding a picture of her with the tips of his fingers as he stared at it intently.

"This is her?" he looked to Snape, who nodded as he sat back in his chair, one leg bent up with his ankle resting on the other knee. He did not like hearing the dark lord say her name like that, almost as if he were fond of her. He did not even know her- but then, that was about to change.

"And you're sure she's suitable? She can be trusted?" Voldemort laid the picture flat on the table in front of him, looking at Snape once more.

Snape took a deep breath silently.

"I am sure." He looked at the dark lord calmly, his dark eyes hiding a great multitude, just as he had trained them to.

"Tell me about her," Voldemort pressed. "I like to know my nearest and dearest."

Snape put his bent up leg to the ground and instead crossed it over the other.

"She is a most loyal character from Slytherin house," he began slowly and carefully, keeping any trace of emotion well and truly out of his voice or facial expression. "Which is how I have come to be able to judge her character so ably for this task. She is probably the worst student in Potions that I have ever had," he said pausing. Voldemort laughed softly, running a finger down the edge of the picture.

"Yes, I can see that being true," he said softly. Snape wished he could be anywhere but here right now, in this situation.

"But she makes up for it in other ways- for example, she is perhaps the best student in Defence Against the Dark Arts that Hogwarts has seen in a very long time, and has impressed everyone who has ever seen her partake in any such activity."

Voldemort looked at him slowly, with a sickening half smile.

"Does she impress you, Severus?" he asked sweetly.

Snape looked at him evenly, careful to hold his gaze. It wasn't easy with someone who was so blatantly evil. Had he slipped up somewhere? He thought he had been very careful and convincing.

"She has, my lord. Her ability is... unquestionable, her talent obvious."

Voldemort laughed silkily. "But not in Potions," he said.

"No my lord," Snape said, running his index finger across his bottom lip. "But then, if I am not mistaken, it's not Potions that you want her for."

"Luckily," Voldemort said, nodding. "I hear she is an able Seeker," he added.

How did he know that? And if he knew little details like that, why had he asked Snape about her in the first place? He was being tested. The dark lord did not miss a beat. He was testing Snape to see if he would show even the faintest indication of his loyalty being misplaced. He had maintained a very convincing charade, and had Voldemort thinking he was like every other death eater in his army, but the dark lord was not an unintelligent man and he never stopped testing those closest to him, to make sure that there were no holes in their loyalty. To him, people truly were dispensable, and if Snape was shown to be morally against using a student in the war against Dumbledore and Harry Potter, then he would no longer be... necessary.

"She is arguably the reason that Slytherin are doing so well in the Quidditch cup competition this year, and is probably the reason that they have won it for the past two."

Voldemort stared at him intently, his fingers placed together in front of him.

"And this has won her... popularity?"

"Yes. She is liked by most."

"Hmmm. Useful. Yes, I think she will do just fine."

Voldemort stood up slowly and began to pace the room, his hands clasped behind his back.

"You will bring her to me, and together we shall explain her task. She is to be a spy for us, within the student body of Hogwarts. I know that Potter is not alone, and I need to know how many are with him. Draco is not as useful to me as I had hoped he would be- his personality lets him down where people are concerned. Miss Sylvari, however, will be very useful in gathering the information that I need."

Snape said nothing, but sat in silence.

"Tomorrow you will bring her to me." Voldemort stood by the window, his back to Snape. "Sun down."

"Yes, my Lord." He stood up sharply and bowed to Voldemort, even though his back would turned. It didn't do not to take every precaution there was to keep his cover. Leaving the room almost silently, he strode along the corridor and prepared to apparate. He needed to speak to Dumbledore. If he had been unsure before, then he was certain now that he did not want this to happen. The risk was far too great.


	3. Enchanted

**Chapter Three**

Snape frowned as he strode into his classroom in the dark, noticing a lone figure sitting at the front. She sat perfectly still, her head bowed slightly, facing the front of the room where he usually taught from. She was early.

"Miss Sylvari," he said curtly as he approached his desk in front of her. "You are not supposed to be here for another ten minutes."

She looked up and he saw that her head had been bowed because she was reading. A large book was open on the table in front of her, and she sat with her hands in her lap as she read in silence.

"Yes Professor," she said quietly, looking at him. "I... apologize. I just thought it would be a quiet place to read." She looked at him as if she was waiting for an answer, and he wondered why she had apologized for being early to a detention.

"I hope you are taking this time to catch up on some Potions reading," he said, knowing full well that she wasn't. Confirming what he already knew, she sighed, closed the book and pushed it away from her. Although it was upside down he saw that it was a book on Eastern magic.

"That's not on the Dark Arts reading list," he said sharply. It was also held in the restricted section of the library, so how did she have it on her desk in front of her? Those books could not be taken out.

Anna ran her forefinger along the bottom of the front cover of the book, her eyes downcast and a curious expression crossing her face.

"I know," she said, as if she wasn't really speaking to anyone at all. "But it's just so... interesting."

"How did you get that out of the library?" he pressed, standing over her. Without moving her head, she flicked her eyes to his face and blinked. Snape's throat tightened. He hated it when she did that, purely because he loved it.

"Ask Professor Lupin," she said with a half smile. Snape frowned, and was not sorry that it did not go un-noticed by Anna. Professor Remus Lupin was her Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Snape had noticed for some weeks now that he was not just teaching her the Defence part. A large part of Anna's reasoning as to why she had wanted to drop Potions was that she was taking extra classes with Lupin, and was clearly doing a lot of extra reading and homework for that class. In class she learned what her peers learned, but in her extra classes, she seemed to be learning less of the defence and more of the Dark Arts themselves.

"You prefer his subject," Snape said, pacing slowly to his desk and turning to look at her. She smiled and cocked her head on one side, and Snape was sure for a split second that she knew everything he felt for her, however hard he had fought to hide it. He thought he had done a pretty good job- after all, if he could fool one of the darkest most dangerous and intelligent wizards that had ever lived so effectively, then surely he could fool a nineteen year old girl who was atrocious at Potions. But then, it seemed as if she had some sort of... knowing. It was more than female intuition- it was as if she could look into people's very souls and read everything they were saying, even if the person they belonged to could not.

"Dark Arts is undoubtedly my best and most favourite subject," she said, her voice soft and her eyes, although light in colour, darkened in the candle light.

"Defence," he said, quiet and soft himself.

"What?" she snapped her head back to centre, sitting upright. Snape sat down at his desk slowly and leaned his elbows on it in front of him, his white cuffs visible.

"Defence against those Dark Arts that you speak so fondly of. To forget the defence part and dwell merely on the arts themselves is a foolish path to take. It leads only to destruction."

Anna blinked and ran her finger down the spine of her book on Eastern magic.

"Do you think I prefer the dark part to the defence, professor?" she almost purred, looking straight at him. He held his ground.

"It certainly comes across that way, Miss Sylvari." He did not move, but only stared back at her, his eyes narrowed. She laughed softly, an edge of satisfaction evident. In one smooth movement she pushed the book to the side away from her and leaned forward, her hands clasped on the desk in front of her. Whispering to him, she smirked.

"Well then, I suppose I had you fooled. I only hope it is as simple with the dark lord's people."

Snape hated hearing her say his name. He hated any sort of association she might have with him, and wished with all his heart he could keep the two separate forever. It was worse that she thought the way she did about the whole thing. Standing up so fast that his chair flew backwards and collided with the wall, he strode briskly to where she sat and slammed his hands down on the desk, causing her to jump backwards in surprise. Leaning over her only inches from her face, he glared at her, his dark eyes full of anger.

"Do not presume to play with me, Miss Sylvari, this is not a game. Do you think he is even a bit like me? Do you think you can fool him the way you can everyone else? You cannot fight like a silly little school girl in a war you do not understand." She cowered away from him as he shouted, and for a moment she looked genuinely frightened.

"Tell me," he continued, standing up. His hands by his sides, he strode around her in a small circle, moving very slowly. She sat still, staring at the desk.

"Do you intend to dance with the devil himself after reading your books and playing with their words?" he took her Eastern magic book from the desk and tossed it across the room, and Anna winced as it hit the wall with a loud bang and ended up on the floor at the back of the classroom.

"Or will you just use your feminine wiles to capture him? There is more than one type of enchantment, and as I have heard it, you have proved that you excel in the type that requires no magic at all."

That part he meant- he knew first hand that he was right.

"For reasons known only unto him, Dumbledore has trusted you with this task. The lives of many depend on you, and if you think they are to be played with like chips in a poker game, then you are severely mistaken." Stopping in front of her, he looked down at her. For once, she refused to look back at him.

"Grow up," he shouted, causing her to flinch. "Grow up very quickly, and prove to us all that I am wrong when I say that I think Dumbledore is mistaken in sending you to do such a dangerous, important job."

Anna sat very still, still staring at her desk. She did not look indignant as he had expected her to, and she showed no signs of her pride having been dented. It had not been his intention to make her feel small or to show her up, but merely to shock her into seeing the reality of the situation as it was. He had wanted to frighten her into backing out, he supposed, or to at least show her the danger she was in.

"You are in more danger than you know, Miss Sylvari," he said very quietly, standing behind her very close. "When you step into the presence of the dark lord, you had better be ready, because your life means less than nothing to him."

She had gone very pale- even more so than usual. He felt a little guilty- he hated the thought of her being frightened, but he had to make her see sense. Leaning forward over her shoulder, he spoke into her ear.

"When you go to him, no-one will be there to save you." His voice was barely above a whisper, and she flinched as his breath tickled her ear. Turning her head slowly, she caught him off guard and he stood up straight very quickly.

"Except you," she said, her face dark.

"What?" he snapped.

"You'll be there. You're his spy and my accompaniment from Hogwarts."

Snape took a deep breath. She thought she could rely on him to look after her. The worst part about it was that he wanted to- so badly it hurt him to the core to think about what he must do instead. And it hurt him even more that he had to say what he was about to say. His jaw set, he turned his back on her.

"Is that what you think?" he said, keeping his voice steady. She said nothing. "I don't know where you got such a notion," he continued, not turning around. "I will be there, yes, but that will make you no less alone."

"I don't understand," she said, genuine confusion in her voice. "If my cover is blown, you'll be there to help..."

His back still to her, Snape closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He breathed evenly for a few seconds, and then spoke.

"No, Miss Sylvari. If the dark lord realizes your true intentions and where your loyalty truly lies, he will kill you..." he stopped, discreetly taking a deep breath. "And I will have no choice but to watch."

"What?" she stood up, her chair flying backwards as his had.

"That's... what?" she sounded panicky, any confidence she had possessed minutes earlier no longer present in her voice or face.

Snape's hands curled into fists at his sides, and he took a deep breath again. He had to turn around to face her, or she would suspect something. Unclenching his jaw and opening his eyes he did so, and found that he had not been ready to face those eyes, now full of confusion and fear. As hard as it was to watch, it seemed to be working.

"Dumbledore and the Order have been very specific. Should your cover be blown, I am not to readily destroy my own to save you. I am too deep into this to back out now. There are few that Voldemort trusts, and as I am one of the few I am to keep it that way."

Anna looked as if she might be shaking a little, and he wondered if it was with fear or anger.

"So you would watch me die to save your own backside and salvage what 'the Order' has achieved recently? You care that little?"

Snape felt his eyes flash with emotion- he could not stop it. Had she noticed? She nodded slowly, a bitter expression creeping across her face.

"You know, professor," she said angrily. "You are more like him than you think." With that she stormed past him, heading for the classroom door. Unable to stop himself, Snape reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her dead in her tracks. She gasped involuntarily as he caught her, a little shocked. Gripping her by the arm, he held her still in front of him, staring down at her face with a mixture of emotions controlling him- none of them evident in his face.

"If you do as I say and stop playing games, then no-one will have to watch anyone else die," he said quietly. Anna looked at her arm where he was gripping it, and then to his face. She nodded slowly.

"Alright," she said shakily. "Just tell me what I need to know."

Very slowly he released her, not looking away from her until she had backed away and left the room. He hoped, more than anything in the world, that he had frightened her out of doing what would surely destroy the first and only one he had loved in a long, long time.


	4. The Girl on the Steps

**Chapter Four Part One**

**The Girl on the Steps**

Snape hurried to the end of the street, his hand on his wand as it rested loosely inside his jacket pocket. The Street was dark and dimly lit, most of the street lamps being broken and many of the houses either extremely run down or not lived in at all. The abandoned mill nearby meant that many of the terraced houses were deserted, as their occupants no longer needed them when they had lost their jobs. For most of the year, Snape's house too was not lived in, as he resided at Hogwarts during the term time. But most summers he returned to Cokeworth, to Spinner's End where he had grown up as a child. His small brick house had formerly belonged to his parents, and when they had died he had inherited it. To Snape it was not a home, but simply a place to live when it was not practical to reside at Hogwarts. He had been about to go into his house when he had seen a curious flash of light at the end of the street, and was almost positive that someone had performed magic of some sort. There could be any number of explanations, but if it was someone or something connected to him, it would not have occurred at the opposite end of the street. Anyone who needed to contact him in Cokeworth knew that he lived at the other end of the street, and so this flash of light was necessary to investigate. Slowing down as he reached the last few houses on Spinner's End, he narrowed his eyes, squinting in the dark. The one street lamp that did work usually was now flickering overhead, illuminating for seconds at a time the small house directly underneath it. He kept to the shadows, trying to use the light of the broken lamp to see what was going on in the house. It was one of the only houses at this end of the street that was actually lived in, and he often heard shouting and unpleasantries when he walked past it. He had never seen anyone go into it or come out, but it was evident from the noise that it was occupied. Looking to the step outside the front door, he crept forward and squinted harder in the dark. He could just about make out a figure sitting there, and could hear that it was a girl- she was crying softly. The girl pulled her sleeve across her hand and wiped it across her face, sniffing quietly as she continued to cry. Suddenly, the door flew open and Snape stepped back into the shadows as light flooded the area around the house. It was coming from the hallway, where a tall, beefy looking woman stood, towering over the girl on the steps.

"You get back in here right now," she shouted, her voice menacing. "You get in here and fix what you have done!"

The girl flinched as the woman above her shouted, and seemed to shrink away from her on the steps.

"I didn't do anything," she cried, sounding petrified. "I swear! It wasn't me!"

The woman in the front door way strode forward, and Snape could not see her face. She stooped, grabbed the girl by the collar and hauled her to her feet roughly.

"I am not asking," she said darkly, her teeth gritted. "I am telling you, to get back inside NOW."

The girl wriggled and fought, but was much smaller than the woman holding her.

"No!" she shouted. "I didn't do anything, you can't keep doing this!" Dodging the woman's hand as she tried to slap her, she struggled free as a second violent flash of light lit up the doorstep and propelled her backwards. Falling down the steps she landed on the pavement outside the house, lying on her back. Scrabbling to her feet, she backed away from the advancing woman quickly and swung around. She began to run, and the woman stopped in her tracks, obviously tired of pursuing already.

"You'll be back," she shouted after the girl. "You have nowhere else to go! And when you come back..." she trailed off, her face full of unpleasant satisfaction. Snape frowned and stayed where he was, watching the woman go back inside. He had been right- magic had been used, and before his eyes in this case. He knew he should probably find her, out of duty to the world that he lived in. She had broken several rules doing what she had just done, and he'd had no idea that a witch lived on the street with him. The door of the house closed, and he was about to turn and look for the girl when something solid and fast moving collided with him. Stumbling backwards, he hit the wall and grabbed whatever it was that had hit him, fumbling for his wand with the other hand.

"Lumos maxima," he said quickly, the end of his wand lighting up so that he could better see in the alley way. With his other hand he gripped whatever it was that had hit him, and as he got his balance back he held his wand out to get a better look at whatever or whoever it was.

"Let me go!" It was the girl from the steps. She had obviously changed direction to fool the woman in the house, and had run into him in the shadows of the other side of the street.

"Ow, let me go!" She struggled, trying to wrench her arm out of his hand, but when he showed no sign of relenting she stopped wriggling so hard. Her dark hair covered her face, so he couldn't see her even in the light his wand was giving off.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "And why are you doing magic in front of muggles?" She started to struggle again, seeming more panicky this time.

"Let me go you crackpot," she said desperately, sounding like she was going to cry again.

"Where's your wand?" he persisted, searching what he could see of her with his eyes to look for her wand so he could disarm her.

"What? My wand? You're crazy!" she said, trying to push him backwards. He stood firm and wrenched her forwards dulling his wand and using the tip of it to move her hair off of her face. When she finally looked up at him, he was caught off guard. Her eyes were unlike anything he had ever seen before. She was older than he had first thought, and looked thoroughly petrified. Her face was smeared with dirt and tears, and her left cheek was beginning to rise in a smarting, angry bruise. Seemingly unable to look away from her eyes he went to dull the light from his wand, but remembered that it was already dull. Her eyes were bright and piercing without anything to illuminate them- even the streetlamp overhead had stopped flickering and had gone black.

"Why won't you let me go?" she said, starting to cry again. "Please, if they come out and find me..."

Looking at her carefully, he wondered what to do. She seemed to have no idea what he was talking about- but she couldn't be a muggle, she had done magic right in front of him.

"You're hiding?" he demanded. She nodded, looking at him desperately. He looked away. It was the only thing he could think of to do, even if it did not entirely make sense. "Then come with me."

Turning, he half dragged her a few metres along the street before she started to run to keep up with him, looking over her shoulder to check that she wasn't being followed.

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"Why do you keep talking about magic?" the girl asked wearily, looking around Snape's living room. "You're talking nonsense. Why am I here?"

He walked past her to the fireplace, dropping a blanket into her lap roughly. Going to the fireplace, he took the iron stoker off of the wall and poked the fire, causing it to flare. The girl flinched at the noise and stared at the blanket in her lap, still looking very unsure.

"Forgive me," he said dryly, still looking into the fire. "But you did not seem to be facing any other more appealing options."

She looked at his back, shivering.

"I assume you know what a blanket is for," he added, not turning around. She looked a little alarmed, and after a few minutes in silence, she gingerly unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Who are you?" she half whispered, sounding weary and tired. "Some kind of magician?" Snape could not help but laugh softly, and turning around he looked at her curiously. He could not tell her the exact truth when she didn't even believe in magic, and he still had to get to the bottom of the fact that she had herself performed magic in front of her.

"You first. What is your name?" he sat down heavily in front of her in the arm chair by the fire, having made sure that she sat closest to the flames in an effort to keep her from going into some sort of shock.

She looked around the room again silently, her odd and beautiful eyes darting from corner to corner cautiously.

"Anna," she said quietly. "Anna Sylvari." He had not heard the name before, but it was in a strange way familiar. Snape wracked his brains as to whether her name was one he had ever come across in the wizarding world, but 'Sylvari' was not a common name, and he could think of no link anywhere.

"Have you lived on this street for long?" he pressed.

"Yes, my whole life. Why are you asking me questions? Why won't you let me go?" she looked very agitated and worried. He sighed and stood up slowly, walking to the window. Gesturing to the door, he looked at her blankly.

"If you want to go, then go. I'm sure you have somewhere much warmer and more inviting than this just calling your name, Anna Sylvari." He smirked slightly, knowing full well that she would not move. She looked down into her lap where her hands were clasped together, suddenly looking very small and ashamed.

"I didn't think so." Walking behind her, he fought to choose only the most important and immediately necessary questions from the thousands he wanted to ask her.

"What is your age?" he asked, his voice low and even. She looked up, her face pale.

"Are you a policeman or something?" she said, fear gripping her. "If they think I called you they'll kill me..."

"I am not a policeman," he cut her off. "How old are you?"

She looked at him for a moment, her eyes haunting. She opened her mouth and closed it again, still silent.

"The truth," Snape added. She sighed quietly.

"Eighteen."

He had thought she would be older- he supposed that the weight of the world upon her shoulders had aged her beyond that. She had revealed already that she knew nothing about magic- either that or she was a very convincing actress. He knew liars when he saw them, and she was no simple liar. If she was acting, she was not telling petty lies for the sake of it.

"Tell me Miss Sylvari," he said, leaning against the mantelpiece and pronouncing her name slowly and clearly.

"Do strange things happen around you when you get angry?" he watched her carefully, especially when her head shot up at his question. Her long hair hung limply around her face, which was full of shock and questioning. Snape smirked. That would do for a yes.

"That's what happened tonight," he said, making a statement rather than asking a question. She said nothing, but stared at him with wide, enthralling eyes.

"You are blamed for it," he continued. "As if you can control it." She looked down, the nails of one of her hands digging into the flesh of the other.

"How do you know it's me?" she asked suddenly, staring at him. "It could be them. They get just as angry as me."

Snape continued to smirk. She really had no idea- either that, or she was trying to throw him off. He knew instinctively which was right.

"It is not them, Miss Sylvari," he said smoothly. "And you know it." She looked down, her hair falling across her face once more, and was very still and quiet for a few minutes. He sat there, letting her think and doing so himself.

"What is your name?" she whispered suddenly, looking up. Her hair stuck to her face where her tears fell, and for a moment Snape's heart and mind wandered back to his own early youth. She obviously was uncared for and neglected.

"Professor Snape," he said, deciding to give her his title rather than his first name. For now, anyway.

"Professor Snape," she repeated, her voice barely audible. "What's wrong with me?" she looked at him for a moment, her eyes big and desperate, as if she were reaching out to him for help like he was the only one left alive to give it. Her eyes were the kind that would inspire joy in the hearts of all those that met them, should they contain any themselves. They were big and wide, and full of pain and confusion and suffering. She needed help, and she wanted him to save her. What could he say to her? This was not his field- rescuing confused, damaged people with no idea about magic. She had been living on his street for eighteen years- how could he not have noticed a witch so close by? Did this make her his responsibility?

"You are a witch," he said blankly. She blinked, staring at him.

"Thanks," she said, shaking her head as if all hope was now completely lost. "You don't even know me," she cried, starting to sob. "How can you insult me like that when you don't even know me?"

Snape closed his eyes, cursing himself. Where was a sap like Lupin or Hagrid when one was needed? 'Witch,' he remembered, was an insult in the muggle world.

"You, Miss Sylvari, are a genuine witch, and the reason you cause damage and destruction when you are angry or upset is because you are capable of performing magic."

He frowned. Having said that, she did not have a wand. She must be like him- capable of doing magic without a wand. There weren't many that could, and if she was one of them then she really was an extraordinary find. Seeing her face, he sighed. It was going to be a long evening of explanation and attempts to convince her that he was telling the truth. He could only hope that she was doing the same.

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Waking up with a start, Snape took a deep breath and looked around his room. He half expected her to be there with him, so real had the dream been. Why was he dreaming about her? She was on his mind enough during the day, so why was she invading it at night too? The day he had found her was one he often thought of whilst awake, and which replayed in his mind even more often when he was not. That day had changed his life, and he had never been the same since. Without her as a part of his life, he felt he would no longer be complete.


	5. Not So Very Different

**Chapter Four Part Two**

**Not So Very Different**

Snape ascended the stairs silently, noticing the change in temperature as he got further up the clock tower. She liked to come here- ever since her first day at Hogwarts she had used the clock tower to escape, just as he had when he had attended the school as a student. He had never told her that he'd done that; she had just found it by herself. It had made him smile when he had first found her up there. She would sit right beside the glass of the clock and look out at the grounds and the castle below, the clock's huge mechanism whirring and ticking behind her almost as if it was hiding her on purpose. Nowadays if she went missing, he knew exactly where to find her. The clock could not hide her from him. Walking into the upper room, he watched the pendulum for a few minutes in silence, as he had done many times in his school career. Something about the regularity of it, the unfailing, reliability of its rhythm; it calmed him after the uncontrollable, irregular events of life. It obviously calmed her too. Peering past the huge mechanisms and cogs, he could just about make out her shape by the glass clock face. She sat huddled, her knees drawn up and her head leaning on the glass. He wondered if he should wait for her to come out, in case she felt cornered or hemmed in.

"Miss Sylvari," he said, loud enough for her to hear, she looked up sharply, but upon noticing that it was him she relaxed visibly.

"Professor." She went back to looking out of the glass, hugging her knees even tighter.

"Miss Sylvari, would you come out here please?" Snape expected her to be angry with him still. He had been harsh and uncaring for days- weeks, or that was how it had come across. Mainly because he had intended it too. He had told himself again and again that it was for her own good, but he could stand it no longer. He had to tell her, or show her just for five minutes out of the hours and hours that went by that he was lying as to how he truly felt. After all, if the worst should happen then she needed to know. He needed her to know.

"No," she said blankly.

He sighed, pacing around the mechanism. This was not going to be easy, but he would not give up.

"Miss Syl..."

"My name is Anna," she snapped, not moving or looking at him.

Snape hesitated. He knew very well that her name was Anna- too well in fact. She sighed and leaned against the clock face to stand up, smoothing down her robes. Walking around the mechanics, she went to walk past him, not even looking at him. Snape set his jaw and took out his wand, locking the door from where he stood. She stopped short of it, hearing the lock click. Her back to him, she tensed visibly. Reaching for her own wand, she turned to the side in confusion when she didn't find it. Snape watched her as she turned to him slowly. He held her wand as well as his own, and she looked at it with a frown.

"Why have you got my wand?" she asked softly.

"You dropped it on your way up here," he said, running his finger along the end of it before pocketing it with his own. "But it's not like you need it anyway."

She shrugged, turning back to the locked door. "You're right, I don't." She held out her hand, about to wave it over the lock when he spoke behind her.

"Leave if you want, Anna," he said, emphasizing her name. "But there are things I want you to hear."

She laughed, lowering her hand. Turning slowly, she looked furiously at him.

"Have you not already said enough? You wanted me to hear that I was a witch, that I needed to come to Hogwarts, that I should help with a war I have never been a part of and best part of all- that after growing me and moulding me like your very own pot plant, you don't care if I die right in front of you."

Snape swallowed- the emotion in her face and voice pained him.

"Go away, Snape," she said bitterly. "I don't belong to you. I wish you had just left me alone."

He laughed softly, turning to pace a little.

"Yes, I bet you do. Then you could have carried on being treated like a slave and a punch bag and it would all have been so much better."

Anna's eyes flashed. Did she have to do that now of all times?

"You didn't have to do what you did for me. I didn't ask you to, and it doesn't mean you own me now." Turning to the door, she tried to unlock it, but found that her spell did not work.

"What..."

Snape stood with his weight over one leg, his arms folded. Looking at the floor, he spoke quietly.

"You may be a very talented, gifted witch, Anna, but you have had merely a year to learn your magic. You have much still to learn."

She said nothing and did not move. He knew that it would annoy her- pulling rank or ability on her, but he was right. In the grand scheme of things she did not know what she was doing. She needed him, even if she didn't know it.

"Open this door," she said, clearly agitated that she could not break his magic.

"No."

"Professor," she breathed. "Open it."

"NO," he repeated. "Not until you listen to me."

She sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say."

Snape gritted his teeth. Words were getting him nowhere fast, and in his opinion they had always been overrated anyway. Storming across the room he took her shoulder and swung her around, pulling her to him so fast she had no time to object.

"What are you doing..." she breathed, the air knocked out of her. She tried to push against his chest but he held onto her, not letting her go.

"Snape..."

He could think of no other way to silence her and make her listen- not to words, anyway. Instead he pulled her even closer and kissed her, one hand behind her head and the other around her waist. At first she wriggled, but after a few seconds she relaxed, letting him kiss her. Standing perfectly still, Anna stayed pressed to his chest as he kissed her. Breaking his head away, Snape did not let her go. She had not kissed him back, and he did not want to give up hope yet. He had come this far.

"But you said..." she breathed, her cheek almost touching his. He leaned back to look her in the eyes, and then wished he hadn't. The confusion and pain all mixed into one he couldn't bear as she stared back at him.

"You and I are not so very different," he whispered into her ear. Taking her hand, he stepped back a little and looked down at it, spreading her fingers with his own. Suddenly he clasped her hand in one of his, gripping it tightly. Closing his eyes, he uttered a spell that would invite her into his deepest, darkest memories- his past, which was not so very different to hers.

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Snape fought to hold onto her hand as he allowed her to wander through his most guarded memories. If he let go then she would not see anymore, and he wanted more than anything to do that- to share his weakness, his most hated times with another person was the last thing he wanted, but he had to convince her of the truth. She gripped his hand back, her eyes closed as she started to see his memories.

The first was of him as a small boy- four years old, sitting on the floor cross legged by his bedroom door in the dark. He was crying- his frightened face stained with tears and dirt, and he waited and waited for someone to open the door. He was hungry- very hungry, and had not eaten for almost three days. But no-one came- he could just hear his parents arguing downstairs, his father shouting and his mother's high pitched voice responding like a banshee.

The second memory showed him a little later- he must have been eight or nine, walking to school along Spinner's End. His clothes were shabby and dirty and did not fit him well, and his hair was lank and messy. He carried a small bag, which looked as if it had very little in it. Suddenly some boys came round the corner, jeering and laughing at him. They encircled him, taking his bag violently and emptying it onto the floor. A squashed, stale looking sandwich fell out and rolled into the gutter, and the boys laughed and threw down the bag. Snape looked scared for a moment, but his apparent fear soon turned to anger. Suddenly a burst of light sent the boys flying backwards, and their name calling stopped as they ran away, yelling things about him being a freak and a weirdo, just like his mum.

The third memory was of Snape at about ten, sitting on the doorstep outside his house. Spinner's End was just as dark and dank as it had been when he had found Anna, and the picture could just as well have been of her. Inside the house, his mother and father shouted at each other, and Snape buried his head in his arms. When the door opened, his mother came to it to usher him inside. Her face was bruised, and she looked terrified. When Snape looked up, he too had a bruise on his left cheek, and ran away from her as she tried to get him to come inside. Instead he ran, running straight at the tow of them as they watched the memory.

The final memory was of Snape when he was much older, after he had graduated Hogwarts and had grown up fairly. He sat in a room with some others, all wearing dark clothes. His left forearm was outstretched, and a man in a hooded cloak bent over it. Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain stung Anna's arm, and she saw that in the memory, Snape was receiving the dark mark from Lord Voldemort. His face set and his eyes full of contempt, he gritted his teeth as the mark began to appear on his arm, fighting back tears as it did so. Anna lurched away from him suddenly and the memory disappeared, leaving them alone in the room. She collapsed in a heap on the floor, cradling her left arm with tears in her eyes.

"What was that?" she said, out of breath. Looking down at her arm she saw nothing there, but it stung nonetheless.

"That was the dark mark," he said, rolling up his left sleeve to show her his forearm. It was just as vivid as it had been in the memory, and she could not look at it for long.

"He will give you one too," Snape said quietly, finding he could not bear the thought. "Just the same."

"Why did you show me those other things?" she said, looking up at him with wide, sad eyes.

"To show you how alike we are. I began just as you did- but I made regrettable decisions and choices because of where I had come from. I will not stand idly by and watch you do the same thing. I could not save myself, but..."

She looked up at him from the floor, still out of breath from the intensity of the memories.

"What?" she breathed. Snape strode over to her and hauled her up, pulling her to him once again. This time she did not object, but almost leaned against him for support. Gripping her tightly against his chest, he closed his eyes and whispered to her.

"I must try to save you," he said, holding her so tight he wondered if she would break. "Before it is too late and I lose the chance."

She didn't say anything, but gripped the front of his robes tightly. He leaned forwards and kissed her again, a last attempt to pour out how he really felt, and always had. This time she kissed him back, angry, sad, desperate and afraid. It was all in her kiss. He could feel it, and laid a hand on her cheek. Pulling away slowly, Anna looked at him with a small smile.

"You have saved me once, Severus," she said softly. "Isn't that enough?"

He pulled her back gently and kissed the corner of her mouth slowly, and then the top of her jaw.

"Never," he said quietly, his breath tickling her ear. "I will never stop trying."

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End file.
